


In My Dreams

by lactoseintolerantmilkshakeenthusiast



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, also he's a drug dealer, anya is a psych major, blink and you'll miss them tho so idk if most ppl would be okay with it, dmitry works at a coffee shop, just wanted to add a tag as well as the warning on the chapter, rated m because there will be smut later, tw: sexual assault/murder mentions, yes so original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12060612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lactoseintolerantmilkshakeenthusiast/pseuds/lactoseintolerantmilkshakeenthusiast
Summary: As it was finals week, he expected there’d be potential in waking up at 4 am to catch people on their way out after all-nighters. What he didn’t expect was to have to physically catch a girl who collapsed from exhaustion and carry her to his apartment so she could sleep it off on his couch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Promised myself I'd never write fanfic, yet here I am. I have a plot all set up, but I can't say I'll update regularly.

Living in a college town has its perks. Young people tend to tip food service employees better, and they tend to smoke a lot more weed. Dmitry was the type to take advantage of both of these facts, which he did very well. Or, you know, about as well as a guy who recently cut all ties with every other drug dealer in town could. It’s when you differentiate yourself from the assholes that you find out who your really loyal clients are; that’s what Dmitry told himself. And as it turned out, he had no loyal clientele. He wasn’t really worried though, it was only a few months before freshmen would start moving in and looking for a stress reliever. He just needed to know the right places to stalk.

One such place was the campus library. As it was finals week, he expected there’d be potential in waking up at 4 am to catch people on their way out after all-nighters. What he didn’t expect was to have to physically catch a girl who collapsed from exhaustion and carry her to his apartment so she could sleep it off on his couch. And yet there she was, on his couch, sleeping. While he made breakfast. At a quarter to noon.

“Hey… you’re that guy…” a quiet voice came from behind him. He turned to see a young woman wearing weathered jeans and an old shirt that probably was white at some point in its life. Her rectangular face held features which were soft, yet sharpened by her confused expression. Dmitry put down his bowl of oatmeal and held out a water bottle to her.

“Here. You’re probably dehydrated.” After an awkward pause, she hesitantly accepted the bottle and took a sip. “I, uh…” Dmitry didn't really know what to say, but he couldn’t stand the silence. “I figured all you needed was some rest so that’s why I, uhm...”

“Why you didn’t call an ambulance?” He was surprised at how quickly she seemed to come to terms with the situation. It’s not every day you wake up on a stranger’s couch -- at least, not without some regrets.

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, that.” Suddenly, her attention shifted to the oven behind Dmitry, and her eyes seemed to glaze over.

“Is that the correct time?” The words came out so quietly and quickly that it took Dmitry a second to comprehend what she was asking, but when he confirmed that it was, in fact, 11:52 am, she ran to the living room and grabbed her bag while muttering obscenities.

Walking towards the front door, she turned to Dmitry and said, “Look, I really appreciate you letting me crash here, um…” She paused, realizing that she didn’t know his name. He offered his hand.

“Dmitry.”

“Anya. Um, yeah, so thanks for that and I guess I’ll see you around town or something.” And just like that, she was out the door and Dmitry was standing in his kitchen with two bowls of oatmeal and no one to share it with.

Anya burst into the building and ran down the halls to Professor Vaganov’s office, managing to crash into him as he was leaving for the day. Once she realized what happened she just laid on the floor, moaning in pain. She’d assume she ran into a brick wall if she didn’t know any better.

The professor sat up and began to gather his things. As he did this, he addressed Anya, saying, “I’m assuming you’re here to beg me to let you make up the final you just missed?”

Anya defeatedly laid down her head and sighed out a “yes,” much like a child who knows they’re asking for too much.

“Well, lucky for you, I have a soft spot for those who actually show up to every class.” Anya felt her heart skip a beat. All three years she’s known him, Professor Gleb Vaganov has never once shown anything but stoicism towards his students. “Makeups will be held by Professor Attwood in room E271 next Tuesday at noon. When you get there you’ll have to sign in and she’ll be able to take everything from there.” At this point he was standing over Anya, holding out his arm to help her up.

As she took it, she asked, “Wait, which building?”

Gleb chuckled for a moment before he replied, “The only one with two floors, Anya.”

“Uh… Right. Yeah. Let me just…” She took out her phone to set a reminder, confirming each detail before typing it in. Once she was done, the professor asked why she missed the exam in the first place, and she let out a long, beleaguered sigh before explaining her morning.

“Seems to me, the fates are in your corner, Anya. It would serve you well to not anger them.” With a wink and a grin, Gleb walked away, leaving Anya even more confused than when she woke up in a stranger’s home.

She took her time getting home to her apartment, flopping onto the couch as soon as she did. After a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, Anya realized that her roommates weren’t home, which meant that there would be plenty of hot water for her to use. A way-too-long shower did sound pretty nice right about now…

\---------------------------

Scrubbed clean and a little pink from the heat, Anya decided now was the time to play into stereotypes and find a coffee shop to have a late lunch at. She put on a flowy sundress with light pink flowers on a yellow background and some sandals and head out to find a place near the park. After walking around for what felt like an hour, she came across a little chalkboard stand with a coffee mug drawn on it and took it as a perfect sign.

The building was completely empty, which wasn’t surprising, considering it was 1:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Anya walked up to the counter and rang the little bell to signal anyone in the back, and was rendered speechless when none other than the man who took her into his home six hours prior drudged out.

Dmitry added some pep to his step when he saw Anya, and smiled, saying, “Well, if it isn’t Miss Sleeping Beauty herself!” At this, a younger girl bolted out from the back room and stared at Anya in disbelief.

“Um, hi? What’s going on?” Anya inquired.

The girl then proceeded to bombard Anya with questions, starting with expected things like “why did you pass out?” and “are you okay now?” but quickly turning into questions of the more personal variety; the only one of these she actually caught was something about her skincare routine.  
Finally, Anya cut her off: “Okay, okay. Listen, I walked out of the library, and next thing I knew I was on a couch listening to off-key signing.”

Dmitry looked betrayed by Anya’s words, and his coworker’s laughter as she strolled into the back room seemed to do nothing but force him to accept that he was not going to hear the end of this for at least a week.

“Okay, your majesty,” he started, “what can I get you on this lovely summer day?” After taking some time to look at the big chalkboard menu on the back wall, Anya decided on a cherry turnover and a caramel mocha latte. Once she paid and got her order, she sat down by the large window overlooking the park and pulled out an old, time-worn book from her bag. After about five pages and a few bites into her pastry, a shadow fell over her shoulder.

“Mind if I join you on my break?” Dmitry asked, gesturing to the chair opposite her. She motioned for him to sit, and he did, taking a sandwich out of his bag and swiftly unwrapping it. He looked her over as he ate, focusing on the book in her hands. “The Thorn Birds, eh? That’s the one about the girl who has a thing for the priest, right?”

Anya was surprised, to say the least. Despite being the best selling book in Australian history, awareness of it among Anya’s peers tends to range from ‘vaguely aware of its existence’ to ‘what the fuck that sounds dumb.’ A smile grew across her face and she nodded.

“Yeah, um. Actually, this copy was a gift from my mother,” she paused at that addition, not knowing if she should tell him that it was the last gift she ever got from her mother. Instead, she chuckled quietly, saying, “I’ll bet I’ve read it enough times to recite it.” Dmitry nodded, turning to look out the window.

“You like Poe?” The question kind of threw Anya off. She was starting to rethink her first impression of this guy. While she realized this, though, her expression seemed to put Dmitry in defensive mode. “Well, uh, he’s really the only name I remember from school, so…” She picked up where he trailed off.

“Yeah, same, to be honest. I remember liking his stuff when we read it but I never really thought about it after the fact, you know?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I get that.” Dmitry took another bite in an attempt to make the silence less awkward. As he chewed, he was painfully aware that Anya was grinning at him. He swallowed hard, looking over to her slowly in anticipation of the inevitable.

“You like poetry.” Dmitry was a deer in headlights, and he began to sputter and stumble over some sort of justification, all the while Anya just continued grinning. After a moment, he let his voice trail off, suddenly well aware of how red his face had grown. 

“Dmitry,” Anya began, “he’s one of the most famous poets in the world. You don’t have to justify liking him.”

“Uh… Yeah… I mean, I knew that, but you know… Image and all that.” 

Anya giggled, prompting Dmitry to laugh a bit as well, and the two settled into the stillness of the café with much less stiffness than before.

They went on like that for the remainder of Dmitry’s break -- small talk to break the silence, followed by more silence, followed by more small talk. When Anya left, she’d already decided that she had found a new place in which to take refuge from whatever ails her in life, and possibly a new friend to sweeten the deal.


	2. Chapter 2

It became a sort of routine for Anya, sitting with Dmitry on her days off. Sometimes he’d even come in the diner on his days off, though he did consider it a bit on the pricey side for standard greasy American food. They’d talk about anything from books to movies to music, and Dmitry would always have something he was embarrassed to admit he enjoyed, prompting Anya to laugh and smile as though she were talking to a rambling five-year-old.

“Okay, how about this: what’s your favorite campy Halloween song?” Anya just loved asking questions that automatically made Dmitry blush. It was a good way to tell the answer would be unexpected but also, somehow, predictable. Unlike the first few times, though, Dmitry didn’t hesitate to answer:

“Oh, gotta go with ‘Dead Man’s Party.’ The horns are what make it for me.”

“Can’t say I’m familiar.”

“Really? You should look it up. The whole album’s a pretty good selection of 80s cheese.”

“What’s the band?”

At this, Dmitry pursed his lips and his eyes darted to the window. Anya was startled by his sudden silence.

“Dmitry…”

Not a peep. Anya shifted in her seat and rested her elbows on the table, leaning over it so as to be as close to Dmitry’s face as possible.

“What’s the name of the band?” she whispered.

“... Oingo Boingo.”

Anya’s forehead made immediate contact with the table, and her shoulders began to shake with laughter. After a moment, she sat back in her chair, and exclaimed, “That’s the most 80s band name I’ve ever heard!”

Dmitry chuckled along, saying, “Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system.” Eventually they settled down and noticed that half an hour had passed, so Anya left Dmitry to his mundane barista job.

As he clocked back in, his manager made a point of telling him that he’s been much less of an angsty jerk since he met Anya, even going so far as to say they “looked good together.”

“Look, Vlad,” Dmitry started, “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t need a wingman. Especially since I don’t have a thing for her.”

“Right, that’s why most days you wait for her to show up before going on break,” Vlad retorted.

“So I like hanging out with her, wouldn’t you?” Dmitry’s face was nearly a pure vixen red, and his tone suggested that he knew that fact all too well. Vlad put his hands up in mock surrender and gestured for him to continue his day.

Dmitry walked home at 7 pm after yet another long and mostly boring day at work. All he wanted to do was watch something to get in the Halloween spirit and maybe have a beer. His plans were interrupted, however, when a signature knocking pattern came at his door. He closed the curtains, yelling for whoever was there to enter.

A lanky kid with a mop of blond-brown hair opened the door and asked, “Are you Dmitry?”

Dmitry nodded, crossing the room to close the door behind the young man. “What’s your poison?” he asked.

“Uh, just a, uhm…” The kid’s voice trailed off, cluing in to Dmitry that he didn’t really know what he was doing.

“New to this?”

He nodded.

“Forty bucks.”

Dmitry went into the compartment in his coffee table and pulled out a small bag while the kid reached into his pocket and began counting a wad of crumpled and creased bills.

“Um, I only have twenty-five.”

Dmitry sighed, but before he could tell the kid to come back when he has enough money, the door burst open and in marched Anya, clearly furious. She wasn’t halfway into the doorway when she started ranting:

“Fucking Vaganov and his goddamn sweater vest-wearing ass...”

Dmitry took the cash from the kid’s hand and gave him the bag, saying in a hushed tone that he’ll be charged extra ‘next time’ and rushed him out of the apartment. Before the door even clicked, he turned back to Anya:

“Please come in, your majesty, and tell me what’s got you feeling so cross!”

Anya sensed his frustration, and responded in kind as she moved to the couch and kicked off her shoes to put her feet up on the coffee table.

“Can it, Bennett! Take it out on my psych professor. He’s the one who called you a ‘no-good druggie.’ Fucker.”

Dmitry was taken aback not only by the fact that the sweetest girl he’d ever met was so angry, but by why she was angry as well.

“Wait, what?”

“He pulled me aside after the lecture and said my grades were dipping -- which, no, they’re not, it’s late September I barely have any grades to begin with -- and then he said he noticed I started ‘associating with those no-good druggie types’ and I was like, speechless, because I have literally never seen this like forty-year-old dude outside of his office, so where and when he would have seen me with you is completely up in the air and it’s just so fucking creepy and --”

Dmitry cut her off by handing her an open beer, which she took after a second’s consideration. Holding his own bottle, he sat next to her and, after taking a sip, grabbed the remote and promptly rented a movie. Anya stared at him while he did this, not sure if he was ignoring her or distracting her.

He answered her question by calmly responding, “It’s only one more semester with that asshat. You can worry about confronting him later, but for now, just chill out. Watch ‘Beetlejuice’ with me.”

Anya decided to take his advice.

\--------------------------

She woke up huddled between the sofa’s arm and Dmitry’s arm. On the cable box, she read that it was 3:36 am. She shook Dmitry awake, and when he jumped at how close they were she inwardly cursed at herself for missing the warmth. Anya stretched and yawned, then looked for her phone. Dmitry found it on the kitchen counter, completely dead.

“You know you don’t have to go home right away, right?” He asked in a small voice.

Anya hesitated, silently wondering what he meant by that. In her head, she decided that since it was so early in the morning, she may as well stay until daylight. So she agreed, accepted the spare blanket he grabbed from the hall closet, and went in and out of sleep for another two hours.

Eventually, she heard Dmitry get in the shower, and decided to get up and look through the kitchen for breakfast materials. She wound up making fried eggs, toast, and Canadian bacon.

“Morning, your grace!” Dmitry exclaimed when he saw Anya setting the table. She jumped at the abrupt greeting, but quickly regained her composure and smiled at him.

“Last time I slept on your couch, I had to skip out on breakfast. I decided to not do that this time,” Anya explained.

Dmitry beamed and poured himself a cup of coffee, and the two sat down to enjoy their meal. When Anya left to get ready for work, she swiftly dropped him a kiss on the cheek, and giggled at the expression he made for the entirety of her walk home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: "blink and you'll miss it" sexual assault and murder mentions

Dmitry never cared too much for autumn. He liked it well enough, but he just liked winter so much more. Snow is so much more beautiful than rain. That said, he did enjoy Halloween; he loved hayrides and haunted houses and seeing all the kids living in his apartment complex that went trick-or-treating around the lot.

And then there were parties. Back in high school, Dmitry was… not very cool. He wasn’t actively bullied, but he did stay at home pretty much every day. It didn’t help that he went to three different high schools.

But when Anya strolled into the shop and eagerly told him that her roommate’s girlfriend was hosting a costume party in about a week and that she wanted him to be her plus-one, he thought, ‘fuck it,’ and agreed to go. He immediately regret this decision when Vlad burst out from the back room and loudly insisted that Dmitry take the afternoon off so the two of them could go shopping for costumes. The regret subsided when he saw how hard Anya was laughing, though.

They cut across the park to the thrift store, thinking of ideas along the way. Dmitry had grabbed a couple lollipops from the counter before leaving, and was now opening one halfway down the park trail.

“What about a cat?” Anya asked.

“You’re better than that,” Dmitry shrugged before putting the candy in his mouth.

“What do you mean, I’m ‘better than that?’ It’s a costume party, I’ll wear whatever I want!” She quipped.

Dmitry put up his arms and said, “I just think you’re more classy than one of those costumes that’s just a leotard and some makeup.”

Anya stopped walking and put her hands on her hips, bringing attention to her figure through her oversized sweater. “Well what’s your definition of classy, then?”

Dmitry looked her up and down, even holding up his hands like an artist framing measuring a wall with their fingers. Anya watched him nervously.

“I got it!” He exclaimed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “‘Grease!’”

“‘Grease?’ What, like a 50s doo-wop girl?”

“Nonono, like the way they did Sandy’s makeover. Haven’t you ever seen ‘Grease?’”

“I mean, I know what you’re talking about, but no. I’ve never seen ‘Grease.’”

Dmitry placed his hand over his heart, looking at Anya in overly dramatic shock and betrayal. She giggled and shrugged.

As they walked in the store, Dmitry made a beeline for the women’s section and scoured for all the high-waisted leather pants he could find. Miraculously, he found a pair that just so happened to be in Anya’s size. As she browsed the racks to complete the look, he moved on to find a vest and some tall boots. When they met up at the counter, she gave him a puzzled look, at which point he pulled out his phone to reveal a photo of Flynn Rider from ‘Tangled.’

“You have a really weird taste in media,” Anya said flatly.

“Things get popular for a reason, your grace,” he responded.

She eyed him at the mention of his strange pet name for her; much as she secretly liked it, Anya wasn’t sure how she felt about hearing it in public. He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows for a second before grinning and turning back to the cashier.

\--------------------

“Well, would ya look at that?” a taunting voice came from the picnic tables as they passed by. “Dmitry, ol’ chum, is that you?”

The two found themselves surrounded by four other young men, some of whom carried blunt objects. Anya leaned into Dmitry’s side, eyes wide with fear.

“Uh, hey, Reggie…” Dmitry stuttered.

The man, now identified as Reggie, stepped in front of Dmitry. He looked between the pair.

“So this is the little number who took you away from us, eh?” Anya snapped out of her panic to grimace at being referred to as a ‘little number.’

“If I recall correctly, I took myself away from you after--”

Reggie interrupted Dmitry: “Woah, woah, woah! What’s with the anger? Do I look angry?” As he spoke, he moved closer to Dmitry’s face. “No, no; we just miss ya, is all.” he pinched Dmitry’s cheek and smiled a big, toothy smile when Dmitry retracted with disgust. Then he turned to Anya.

“‘Sides, wouldn’t you be proud to call this piece your own?”

One of the other men quickly took Anya by the waist, saying, “Hey, if you don’t want her, I’ll take her!”

Anya elbowed him in the face, causing a blowout with the rest of the gang; Dmitry punched and kicked everything in sight, while Anya picked up a bat someone dropped and used it to smash one guy’s back. After a few minutes, the gang dispersed, leaving Anya and Dmitry alone in the park.

“Next time I won’t go so easy!” Anya shouted as the young men fled.

Dmitry sat at one of the benches, his back facing the edge of the table. He leaned down with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, concentrating on his breathing. Anya sat next to him.

“Where… did you…” he gasped between breaths.

“Ninth grade boyfriend took karate classes,” Anya explained while stretching. “He was pretty nice. Well, before he dumped me for a senior who then dumped him after prom.”

Dmitry laughed, taking a moment to look at her as she pulled a mini first-aid kit from her purse and grabbed his left arm. He didn’t even notice he’d been cut, but he sure as hell noticed when rubbing alcohol was applied to it.

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” she told him. After she cleaned and bandaged his arm, she asked, “So, uh… what was the deal with you and those guys?”

Dmitry groaned, then replied, “Reggie… he, uh, assaulted a freshman girl a while back, and when word got out she was going to the cops, she ‘conveniently’ overdosed on… ugh, God only knows what.”

“Oh, Jesus, that’s awful!”

“Yeah. Worst part is, I convinced her to go to that party. If I only knew…” Dmitry hung his head in shame, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for what happened,” Anya said quietly. She tried to rub his back, but he stood up and began to pace frantically.

“I’d known the guy for years at that point, Anya! I knew what kind of guy he was, I knew what he was capable of, I should have seen it coming ten miles away!”

Anya stood in front of Dmitry, effectively stopping him in his tracks. She grabbed his hands and pressed his palms together between hers before tentatively looking up at him.

“When’s the last time you prayed, Dmitry?”

He was baffled by her question, having never thought her to be the type that prays, but he answered her honestly: “Uh, never.”

She smiled, and kneeled in front of the bench, gesturing for Dmitry to follow. When he did, they both folded their hands and closed their eyes, and Anya led them through a prayer:

“Dear Lord, please bring this young girl into your arms with love and acceptance, and please guide and guard others so that they do not suffer the same fate. Amen.”

“Amen.” Dmitry stayed sitting on the ground, watching as Anya got up and sat back on the bench. “I didn’t think you were religious,” he said presently.

“I was raised Catholic. I don’t practice anymore, but once in awhile, I find a reason to pray. What about you? Your parents didn’t take you to church at all?”

Dmitry hesitated. He knew he could trust Anya, but there was still that voice at the back of his mind telling him not to throw his baggage at her. Eventually, the majority won out.

“I didn’t know my parents. My mom died shortly after I was born, and my dad got cancer when I was about six. I do remember him a little bit though; one time he took me to a mall santa and I guess I was nervous to sit on a stranger’s lap or something, cause I remember him leaning down and telling me, ‘It’s okay, Dima, look, he’s got a candy cane for you!’”

Anya offered him an empathetic smile, and repeated, “Dima?”

“Heh, yeah.” Dmitry looked down at his hands, which he was twisting and twiddling.

Anya stared at the ground. “My parents died when I was seventeen. We were moving, and mom was worried we’d get lost so dad was tailgating the truck, and someone cut them off…”

She put her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide her cracking voice, and Dmitry, noticing her fighting back tears, sat next to her on the bench and pulled her into a side hug. After a moment, she composed herself and began to gather her things. Dmitry saw that she was heading towards her own apartment, and took her hand.

“I think we could both use a Disney movie right about now.”

Anya nodded, and, hand-in-hand, they went to Dmitry’s place.


	4. Chapter 4

Dmitry walked out the door to find Anya waiting on the street corner, decked out in the leather pants he cleverly picked out for her, red five-inch pumps with a strap above the ankle, and a black moto jacket just barely covering a red top. When she saw him, she stuffed her phone in her bag and flashed him a smile.

“Well, Flynn,” Anya said with a joking nudge to Dmitry’s abdomen, “you’re certainly looking… er, more comfortable than I am.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to go with my suggestion. Though, if we’re being honest--”

“Oh, stuff a sock in it.”

Once they were at the house, he took comfort in seeing that it wasn’t a building overflowing with dudebros running around shirtless looking for a keg. It was easy to tell that the music inside was pretty loud, but even then one could only hear the beat when immediately outside the door. He had a good feeling.

Two women walked up to greet them, embracing Anya as they did. The blonde one went to shake Dmitry’s hand, commenting:

“So this must be your little boy-toy!”

Dmitry and Anya both went wide-eyed and red, simultaneously blurting, “Excuse me?”

The blonde put up her hands, saying, “Alright, alright. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, there’s beer and food in the kitchen. Go nuts.”

Anya hung up her jacket and led Dmitry to the kitchen, where there was an assortment of party trays and baked goods as well as the typical pastas and chicken tenders in aluminum trays over disposable gas heaters. It felt like he was back at his junior prom, only he actually liked the way he looked.

The night consisted of various party games; in the dining room, a group was playing some card games; the living room had b-list slasher movies playing and a few people were taking shots with each jump scare; for a while, Dmitry considered joining the game of badminton in the back yard.

Then Anya grabbed his arm and dragged him to the garage, where the hosts had set up beer pong. Anya stood on one end of the table, eyeing Dmitry in a way he told himself was supposed to intimidate him, not willing to admit (even to himself) the actual effect it had.

Anya didn’t particularly excel at beer pong, but Dmitry noticed that she seemed to hold her liquor pretty damn well. They played for a good hour and a half, then decided to stick with the movies for the rest of the night. He was not at all surprised when Anya insisted on joining the drinking game, but he did tap out pretty early.

Dmitry didn’t like getting drunk. Drinking, sure, but he never cared for anything more than an acute tingle at the base of his head. The way he felt when they finally left was something he had only experience a few times, and it was not pleasant for him. He felt like he needed to lean on Anya for support, though she insisted he wasn’t walking any differently than he normally did.

“Well how would you know?” he asked. “You drank at least twice as much as me.”

“Dima, sweetie,” Anya said, holding Dmitry by both his arms to steady him, “I went to a private school. There were a lot of bigwigs sending their kids to that school who went on a lot of business trips, leaving plenty of time for many a rager.” She spoke slowly, to ensure he understood through the drunkenness, and she punctuated the point ‘many a rager’ by tapping her finger on Dmitry’s nose.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then nodded and they continued walking. Silence crept between them, and he filled by asking, “did you just call me ‘sweetie?’”

Anya froze when Dmitry stopped to unlock the door to his apartment building. He turned to see what she was staring at, and felt a pang of fear when he saw Reggie and his gang hanging out at the other end of the block.

“Uh, Dmitry, do you mind if I…” Anya leaned towards him, speaking in a hushed tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, come on in,” Dmitry said as he placed his hand on her back to lead her inside.

Anya walked out of the bathroom, wearing frumpy sweatpants and a large t-shirt, her face now clean and hair let down. Dmitry’s inebriated state made him not as aware that he was staring, and he didn’t snap out of it until she blushed and smiled at him.

Anya giggled as she sat next to Dmitry, who was squirming and stuttering and red like a balloon. Eventually he sighed, mentally kicking himself for acting like a dumb schoolboy.

Anya looked around the room, thinking. After a lengthy moment, she leaned over and kissed Dmitry’s cheek. He looked at her, shocked, and the two hovered an inch from each other for about three full seconds before their lips collided, and suddenly his shirt was laying over the back of the sofa and the bedroom door just wasn’t close enough.

\---------------------

Dmitry’s phone was blinking when he woke up. After groggily sipping some water from a bottle he kept on his end table, he looked to find a missed call and a voicemail.

“Uh, hey, Dmitry,” Vlad started, “I know you’re probably hungover, but if you could make it down for a few hours this afternoon that’d be a big help. Apparently Jacy’s grandmother passed away unexpectedly and she needs to catch the train around six.”

Dmitry looked at the clock. 11:36. He texted Vlad that he could be there around three. It was at this point that a vague flash of collapsing onto the bed in a tangled knot came to the forefront of his brain.

“Anya?” he called out the hallway.

No answer.

He walked in the kitchen to find it empty. A note was left on the counter:

“Was late for work, otherwise I’d join you for breakfast. We can talk later.  
~Anya.”

Dmitry wondered what this talk would entail, and how much later it would come.

He hoped the result wouldn’t be as inconclusive as his memory.


	5. Chapter 5

_My Dearest Anastasia,_

_I am beginning to feel like it’s been too long since we’ve been together. I know you’ve been saving money to visit after you graduate, but I simply cannot wait until then. I haven’t had a Christmas dinner with my family in nearly ten years. The time has come to start anew, and to see how you’ve grown since then. I know you’re busy around that time, but hopefully you and Lily can talk and work something out._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_  
_Nana Marie_  
_(And Lily)_

Anya stared at her laptop screen. Her Nana would communicate with her via her live-in nurse’s email account, and they were often lovingly handwritten and translated by Lily into the digital medium. Knowing she had a bit to think about, she decided to wait before replying.

Her first instinct was to call Dmitry, but just like every other day she’s tried, she had no idea what to say. So she put her phone back on the coffee table and flopped back against the couch before loudly groaning in frustration.

‘You’ll have to talk to him eventually,’ she thought to herself. ‘You promised you would, and now look. It’s almost been a month. How long are you going to put this off?’

She let out a longer, louder groan, prompting her roommate to come out from her bedroom.

“Okay, okay,” the blonde said as she sat next to Anya, “what’s wrong?”

Anya hesitated, silently deliberating whether or not to tell her roommate what was on her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted when the blonde began prying.

“So are you going to tell me or are you just gonna lay out here and groan like you’ve been stabbed all day?”

This time she didn’t need to think. It just slipped out before she could convince herself it was a bad idea to speak.

“I fucked Dmitry…” It all sounded like one word, mumbled together in a low register akin to that of a teenaged boy trying to keep his voice from cracking.

Her roommate burst into laughter. “Wait, wait, wait…” she huffed and steadied her breathing. “So you weren’t before?”

“NO! Rosa! No. I’d never fucked him until after your party, okay?!” Anya suddenly realized she’d been yelling, and took in a deep breath and leaned back against the arm of the couch before continuing, “I… I’m sorry.” She rested her cheek in her left hand, avoiding eye contact after her outburst. “What do I do?”

“Well, have you talked to him since then?”

“No. I can’t. I always get stuck on what to say.”

“Well… how do you feel?”

The question was one that Anya knew was coming, but she still managed to be caught off guard by it. How did she feel? She was the one who initiated the hook up; she’d kissed his cheek several times prior; and, yes, she did admit to finding him attractive, even if not aloud.

But how did she feel?

“... I don’t know. I like him, but… I-I just don’t know!” She grew flustered every time she tried to sort out her feelings toward Dmitry, and even more so now after being prodded.

“Well, maybe he’s in the same boat as you. At the very least, you should talk about what happened.”

“But what should I say? How do I bring it up?”

“That part’s all on you, but I advise you to be concise.” At this point, Rosa got up and left the apartment, and now Anya was all alone with her thoughts and her memories -- very detailed memories, mostly consisting of wandering hands and tongues, which evoked a very specific feeling in her gut.

She huffed, stood, and went to get dressed.

\-----------------------

Her hand stopped just inches from the door. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, heaved a sigh, and knocked. Whether or not she was ready, she was there, and with a purpose, and nothing would stop her from fulfilling it.

But then Dmitry opened the door. Shirtless. With bedhead.

Anya felt like she could melt right then and there.

He stiffened and blushed when he realized who was at his door, letting out a mousy “hi,” before instinctively moving his free hand up to run through his hair.

“Um,” Anya could feel herself shaking but pushed through, “can I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah.” Dmitry quickly shuffled to the side and closed the door behind Anya as she entered the room. She leaned against the counter, placing her bag against the lip of the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Dmitry stood awkwardly against the closet, looking everywhere but at his guest.

“I, um…” Anya searched and searched through her lexicon, but she just could not for the life of her figure out how to start this conversation. She opted to start with a different topic, hoping to move back to this one once they’ve gotten more comfortable.

“I’m thinking of visiting my Nana for Christmas.”

Dmitry seemed grateful for the more casual subject matter, chiming in with: “Oh? Where’s your Nana live?”

“Paris.”

“Paris, France?” He deigned to look in her direction now.

Anya nodded, a friendly smile accentuating her simple beauty. He found himself looking her up and down slowly, snapping himself out of it when he got to her eyes. They were blue.

Dmitry felt like he could melt right then and there.

“I’ve heard it’s beautiful there in the winter,” he added.

“Yeah.”

The air felt thick. Anya raced to fill the silence. Dmitry won.

“We’ve missed you at the shop.”

Anya blushed. All she could muster was a timid “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said, “life happens, y’know?”

Anya nodded. Dmitry seemed to be mulling something over. Then he stepped away from the closet door and stood in front of Anya.

“And... I’ve missed you, too.” Anya mentally noted that his hand was hovering over her waist, and without thinking she used her own hands to properly place both of his arms.

He took the hint, swiftly picking her up and sitting her on the counter. She giggled at the surprising maneuver, and he followed suit, and soon they were staring into each other’s eyes, just as they did three weeks prior.

Dmitry leaned in first this time. Anya wrapped her arms around his neck as their kisses became deeper and more aggressive. He slid her cardigan down her arm, revealing the thin sleeve of her shirt, and quickly pressed his mouth to the space just above her collarbone, savoring the quiet gasp that escaped her mouth when he grazed his teeth against her skin.

“Easy, easy there,” she whispered as she pried him off of her neck to meet his eyes.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just… don’t you think we should talk about this?” Anya really, really didn’t want this to stop, but she just had to know exactly what it was.

“What is there to talk about?” Dmitry seemed eager to continue their makeout session; he kept moving his head back where it was, only to be brought back up by Anya’s hands.

“I need a label, Dima.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Do we have to put a label on it right this second?”

Then, before Anya could respond, an electronic melody came from her purse. He pulled out her phone and handed it to her.

“Hi Lily… Oh, yeah, I got it, I just wanted to see my professors and figure out the midterm schedule to see if I could…”

While she talked, Dmitry went back to her neck, gently nibbling and sucking whenever she stopped to listen. He noticed when she hitched her breath and would stop for a moment when she put her free hand on his forehead. She decided to torture him a bit as well:

“... Oh, do you think she’d mind if I brought Dmitry?...”

He whipped his head up, staring at her with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“... Yeah, that’s the one… Oh! Great! Alright I’ll ask him… Okay… Buh-bye.”

She hung up and put her phone on the counter next to her, then looked at Dmitry with a smug expression.

“... Your Nana knows who I am?” he asked.

“I tell her almost everything,” she answered with a flutter of her eyelids.

He grabbed hold of her hips, bringing her closer. “I can’t wait to meet her,” he said, before leaning for a tender kiss.

“So about that label?” he whispered.

“I think it can wait,” she replied. She then pushed him away, and taunted him to chase her to his room.

Which he did.


	6. Chapter 6

A year ago, he was watching ‘Home Alone’ while eating Chinese takeout and drinking beer. Now, he was in a taxi with his… friend. In Paris. Dmitry considered pinching himself, but decided to let this dream run its course for now.

The hotel room was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He felt like he’d stumbled onto the set of some cheesy romance movie, and he was loving every second of it.

“So,” Anya said as she put her bags in the corner, “we have a few days before Christmas dinner with Nana.” She stood by the window, hand tentatively holding the curtain string, staring Dmitry down with that grin that made his insides turn to putty. “Now what?” She bat her eyelashes, feigning innocence.

He bit his lip and slowly made his way across the room to her. Keeping eye contact, he reached his hand up to hers and, as he leaned in for a kiss, he slipped his hand around the string and laced his fingers through hers. He paused for a moment, loving the sight of her completely intoxicated by his touch, and said:

“I’d rather look around the city first.”

Anya pouted, then went into the bathroom to fix her makeup.

Paris really is the most beautiful city in the world, and the gentle snowfall only made the lights twinkle even more. Dmitry couldn’t help but wear the widest smile as his eyes wandered from historic building to historic building… then to Anya. He felt a pang at that realization, like he’d been poked in the chest by someone with an uncomfortably long fingernail. Nevertheless, he ignored it as best he could.

They found a small cafe by the Seine and Dmitry got a lovely photo of Anya looking out the window while taking a sip of her latte, which Vlad immediately liked when he posted it on instagram. Why is Vlad up at this hour anyway? Was it even late back home? He decided that he didn’t care, he just wanted to see Notre Dame before heading back to the hotel.

The closer you get to the cathedral, the more magnificent it becomes. The level of detail in the statues and carvings that surround the building… Dmitry stood in the square, mouth agape, holding on to Anya’s hand to keep her from walking away without him. She turned to find that a single tear had escaped his left eye, and she felt a warmth arise in her that she never thought she’d feel again.

\---------------------------------

When Dmitry was told that Anya’s grandmother expected “semi-formal attire” at dinner, he was suddenly well aware of the fact that he was going to Paris, with a female friend, with whom he has had sexual relations, to have a meal with her only living relative.

No pressure.

But hey. He’s always prided himself on his ability to make a good first impression. A nice suit, some hair gel, charming smile; he’ll be fine.

As per usual, his confidence faltered when Anya walked in the room. She stood in front of the wall mirror and smoothed out her royal blue dress. Dmitry mentally noted how it fell just below her knees, and that the garment hugged her waist tightly. She crossed the room, eyeing him, and bent down to pick up her shoes -- black pumps with a low heel.

“You’re staring,” she said flatly. Dmitry blinked a few times, then lowered his head back to his own feet.

‘Oh yeah,’ he thought, ‘I was tying my shoes.’

“You’re allowed to stare, you know,” Anya whispered. When did she sit down next to him?

“That doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when you catch me,” he retorted. She grinned.

“I’d have you right now if we weren’t meeting my grandmother in half an hour.”

“Try to control yourself, your grace. Just this once.” Anya’s response to that was to roll her eyes as she went to put on her coat.

Nana Marie’s home was quaint. It smelled of peppermint and sugar cookies, just as you’d expect an elderly woman’s home to smell in December. But something about it made Dmitry feel…. Something. He couldn’t name it, but he liked it, whatever it was.

Anya excitedly embraced her grandmother, holding on tightly and swaying back and forth for what felt like an eternity. After a hug for her nurse, too, she turned their attention to Dmitry.

“Nana, Lily, this is Dmitry,” she said, holding onto her friend’s arm. He smiled awkwardly and extended his hand to shake Lily’s. Nana opted for a nod in his direction, then walked to the parlor and sat down on the sofa. Anya brought her head up to Dmitry’s ear and whispered, “Go with her. I’ll help Lily set up.”

He tentatively sat on the opposite end of the couch, extra conscious of how straight his back was. Marie stayed in place, as though she were posing for a portrait, with her hands resting atop her cane which was firmly planted on the floor just in front of her.

“You know, Dmitry,” she said, “when Anastasia first mentioned you, I told her to be cautious.”

Dmitry chuckled politely, and responded, “Well, considering how we met, that’s completely understandable.”

Marie smiled -- a warm, yet at the same time impersonal, smile that made Dmitry feel a cold bead of sweat roll down his back.

“She continued to see you, despite my protests. Stubborn, that girl, just like her father. I tried everything I could think of; I said that her parents would not have liked her being around a no-good druggie type.”

This hit Dmitry like a pillowcase full of bricks, throwing him back to when Anya had marched into his home, unannounced, in a rage about “Professor Vaganov” trying to micro-manage her social life. And now here was her grandmother using the exact same wording that ticked her off.

“At one point I offered to get her a job here in Paris, and to have her come live with me. Still, she refused, so what could I do? I had to get her here in person. I had to sit her down and remind her of all she is capable. And then what does she do? She brings you along. Like a slap to my face.”

Dmitry was hurt, to say the least. He had no idea Anya had to defend their friendship to anyone, let alone the only family she has left. And did she really bring him along just to spite her?

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked. Marie sighed.

“The table is set!” Lily called. Dmitry simultaneously cursed and thanked her for her timing.

Dmitry and Anya sat beside each other, with Lily and Marie opposite them. Anya was very clearly uncomfortable, but Dmitry wasn’t about to let that last very long.

“Anastasia, would you like to say grace?” Marie asked, holding up her hands.

Dmitry took Lily and Anya’s hands, saying, “Um, actually I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”

They all looked at him with a different expression; in Lily, he saw mild shock; Anya displayed a mixture of fear and relief; and Marie, well...

He bowed his head and cleared his throat.

“Dear Lord, we thank you for the numerous fortunate events which led to us meeting this fine Christmas Day. May we cherish not only the meal we are about to eat, but the people who surround us as well. Amen.”

As the group finished with their collective “amen,” Dmitry squeezed Anya’s hand. She flashed him a grateful smile, all while Lily garishly thanked him for his “well stated” prayer.

They awkwardly settled into dinner, eventually getting comfortable enough to be jovial. Anya talked about her studies, Dmitry answered questions about his life, Lily bragged about her nephew's achievements; typical family reunion conversation. But, as with everything else, dinner eventually had to end.

“Anastasia, darling, can you help Lily organize my next week’s medications?” Marie asked as Lily finished clearing the table.

A deathly silence fell over the table. Anya made eye contact with Dmitry, before ultimately getting up and following Lily to Marie’s bedroom. Dmitry swallowed a gulp.

“You asked why I told you those things,” she said flatly once they were alone. “It was because I was hurt and concerned for my granddaughter.”

Dmitry lowered his head. Deep down, he knew she was right. Years from now, Anya would be a practicing psychiatrist, and what would he be doing? Would she still want him around -- would she have the time to have him around? He has nothing to offer her. He's a guy who works an entry-level job at 24 years old, and there's not many places to go from there.

Then Marie spoke again.

“But I was wrong about you.”

He couldn't help it; his first instinct was to snap his attention to her and say, “What?”

She smiled, genuinely welcoming this time, and shakily stood.

“Does Anastasia talk about her parents often?” she asked, perusing the mantel which was cluttered with picture frames.

“Uh, no,” he said, “she only told me how they passed away.”

“Mm. I would expect as much,” she muttered, reaching to the back row of the photos and picking one up. She walked to Dmitry’s side, saying, “She takes after her mother in beauty, but her father in spirit. I remember when they died, she begged to move here with me, but I knew how hard she had worked to get into that school. She certainly would have come to regret it.”

She handed him the frame, and he saw that what she had brought him was Anya's parents’ wedding photo. They looked not at the camera, but into each other’s eyes, both beaming lovingly. Marie pointed to the man in the picture, and asked Dmitry:

“Look at that smile. Have you ever seen such a smile?”

“I don't believe I have,” Dmitry said quietly.

“Really?” she said. “I've been seeing it all night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I just want to thank everyone for all the amazing feedback! The next chapter should be out shortly after Thanksgiving, and since chapter 8 will just be an epilogue, I'll post them at the same time. Thanks again for all the support, it means the world to me! And Happy Holidays!


	7. Chapter 7

Anya kicked off her shoes the second the door opened, plopping her purse on the table next to it and unbuttoning her coat. Dmitry followed behind her, careful not to upset her any further. She hung up her coat and then sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, trying desperately not to cry. He knelt down in front of her.

“How could she…” was all she managed to say before she crumbled into Dmitry’s arms. He held her close, gently rubbing her back as she sobbed. Eventually, she stood and made her way to the bathroom sink to clean her face; Dmitry followed her and leaned against the door frame.

“I… I'm so sorry I did that. I didn't think she'd be so upfront about how she felt, and of course I made you sit with her alone, and…” Anya sighed, letting her head hang low.

“Why won't you say anything?” she asked, looking at him in the mirror. He seemed to be distracted, looking to the floor and fiddling with his sleeve. “Please say something,” she begged him.

He stood still for a moment, looking back at her through the glass. Something in his face told her to trust him. Something in his casual stature told her everything was going to be okay. And she believed him. So she relaxed her face, picked up the towel, and began to dry herself off.

“I love you.”

Anya stopped dead. She turned quickly, haphazardly placing the towel on the counter and not caring when it fell to the floor. They stood there, opposite ends of the room, both vulnerable and meek.

The tears were his this time.

“When we met, it took me hours to convince myself that the chances of seeing you again were just about nonexistent. When you showed up at the cafe I was speechless, and then when you kept showing up I was baffled. Every time you talked to me, another wall fell. I've told you things that I haven't told anyone, and I didn't know why until an hour ago.”

She stepped forward as he cried, bearing his soul. Without hesitation, she pulled him down by his collar, tenderly kissing his lips. After a long moment, she pulled away, letting one hand rest on his shoulder while holding his cheek with the other. She closed her eyes, a light, content smile accentuating her face.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

He leaned in for a gentle embrace, breathing in her perfume and squeezing tight like he'd wake up soon.

\--------------------------------

He lay on the bed, browsing Twitter on his phone and occasionally huffing with amusement. Anya had taken a bath to calm herself, and now that her hair was dry and put up for the night, she flopped onto the bed beside him.

Dmitry put his phone on the end table and quickly turned over, wrapping his arms around Anya and kissing her neck gently. He delighted in the surprised giggles that filled the air, especially after that ordeal they went through earlier.

Their eyes met, Anya turned in a way that her back was facing him but her left arm was resting on his right shoulder.

“You don't know how badly I wanted to stay that morning,” Anya whispered, her voice raspy from crying.

“I can take an educated guess, based on how much I wished you had,” he responded.

She pulled him in, kissing him firmly. He loosened quickly, adapting when she opened her mouth, inviting him to do the same. They performed a graceful, but also kind of sloppy, dance with their tongues for almost a minute before Anya made her move.

She flipped him over with the intention of sitting on his waist, but only succeeded in shoving his crown right into the headboard. He winced in pain, instinctively reaching his hand to where it hurt, then, upon finding that he was not bleeding, began to laugh, all while Anya looked on in mild shock.

“Are you okay?” she sputtered, fighting off her own laughter.

He just grabbed her by the neck and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. She made her way down the side of his neck to his shoulder, where she stopped to reach over and open the end table drawer. As she blindly searched the drawer, Dmitry started giggling again.

“What?” Anya breathed. He turned his head to look her in the eyes.

“They’re in the other end table.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed herself off of his chest and crawled to the other side of the bed. Dmitry sat up and took off his shirt, then stood to remove his pants, but before he could touch the waistband he was hit by about eight wrapped condoms, which then fell to the floor (and a few on the bed).

He looked at them, then back up at her, and upon seeing her devious smile, reached over and grabbed her by the leg, pulling her towards him. She fake-struggled, giggling as he wrapped her legs around his middle and unbuttoned her pajama top. He moved his hands around to the small of her back, and slowly brought his right arm up until he was upping the base of her neck, placing gentle kisses from her abdomen to her collarbone as he went.

Her hands tangled his hair; her breath warmed his ears; her back arched at his touch; she squeaked the second his hand slipped into her shorts. He smiled, applying pressure to her groin and gyrating on the ball of his hand. Anya closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head back onto the mattress. He teased her opening with his fingertip before moving to take off her shorts.

While he undressed and put on a condom, Anya cleared the bed of anything that might make them uncomfortable (including the rest of the condoms) and positioned herself against the headboard. Awkward shimmying became gentle caressing, which then became lovemaking, which then became fucking.

Anya didn’t really know what was going on--she never did when she had sex. But she did know that something felt a little different. Not physically. But it was different. Good different. Or maybe she was just reeling from the wine mixed with this orgasm. Whichever.

As for Dmitry, nothing ever felt so right. He’d had plenty of flings, which he remembered fondly, but very few relationships, and they always ended up with him getting high and burning pictures. But despite how jaded he believed that he’d become, he managed to feel optimistic again. He managed to actually get what everyone in movies was always talking about. He managed to find love.

He didn’t even notice when he came. But he did notice that all his limbs were suddenly immovable. So he just layed on top of Anya, both of them breaking heavily.

“You’re really heavy,” Anya said.

“I’d move if I could.”

“I know.”

He smiled, and now that a minute or so had passed, lifted himself up and carefully disposed of the condom.

Anya found herself unable to not cuddle him, despite how sweaty they both were. She liked the sound of his heartbeat, and the weight of his hand on her shoulder. If ever there was a moment she wanted suspended in time so she could visit it whenever she wished, it would be this one.

Just before she fell asleep, she said, mostly to herself, “I love you, Dmitry.”

As she drifted off, she felt him kiss her forehead and whisper back, “I love you too, Anastasia.”


	8. Epilogue - One Year Later

Anya groggily rolled over and picked up her phone from the end table, bringing it to her ear.

“Hello?... Sort of… Uhh… Yeah. Yeah I got you… Okay… Don’t worry about it… Okay, bye.”

She sat up and stretched. Something warm followed her and wrapped around her waist. It moaned.

“Dima,” she whispered, trying not to laugh, “I gotta go to work.”

“It’s Wednesday,” he mumbled.

“Tanya’s nephew is sick and her sister is out of paid sick days.”

He moaned again, but let her go anyway and flopped back onto the bed. She turned around and helped him get back under the blanket.

“Just the opening shift. You can come hang out for lunch and then we can have our lazy day all afternoon, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, but please bring home food.”

“You got it,” she chuckled. He wrapped his arms around the pillow while she got ready to take a shower.

Although her boyfriend is a “druggie type,” he’s the sweetest man she’s ever dated. And she’s very happy about that.


End file.
